Tears of Tess (Monsters in the Dark #1)(60)
Q lashed out, grabbing my chin. “What are you doing? I told you to forget it. You’re only to remember me from tonight.”
I dropped my eyes, nodding rapidly, wishing I could obey, but thoughts slithered on the edge of consciousness: Brute with his horrible breath and fingers; Driver with his lies and hair pulling.
With Q here, he helped me forget, but every moment he withdrew, returning to a cold master, rather than tentative lover, I floundered.
Ripping his eyes from mine, he opened a vanity drawer and pulled free a tub of arnica. “Sit,” he ordered, pointing at a fluffy bench behind the door. I sat, gasping as Q knelt before me. “This will help.”
With soft fingertips, he massaged the ointment into lash marks on my upper thighs. The pressure both painful and delicious. Echoes of memories tried to jail me, but Q’s touch wouldn’t let me linger in nightmares. Not while he rested between my legs, stroking me. His scent of citrus kept me grounded, reminding he might have flaws, but he cared about his possessions. He would look after me as long as I pleased him.
“What did you mean when you said you were frightened about how far you’d go, when I was chained in the sparrow room?” The words fell out; I clamped a horrified hand over my mouth. Oh, my God, what made me say such a thing?
Q froze and his sudden emotional recoil left me freezing. “I’m not in the mood to answer questions, esclave.”
Glaring, he returned to rubbing in the pungent healing balm, effectively slicing off any conversation. But a core of strength filled me and I had to know. I needed to know more about this conundrum of a man. Who was he?
“What did those men mean tonight? Only taking what they’d taken in the past? Do you traffic women, Q? Is that why you’re so afraid to do to me what you’ve done to others?”
I never thought I’d see Q terrified, but he fumbled upright, throwing the tub of arnica in the sink. It spun around and around, clattering to a noisy stop by the plughole.
Q bared his teeth, swiping ruthless hands over his face. “Don’t talk to me about that. It’s none of your goddamn business. Merde, ne me demandez pas de nouveau.” Do not ask me again.
I flinched, buffeted by his anger.
He grabbed me, hauling me to my feet. I scrambled for his hands, trying to get free.
Q glared into my eyes and all the connection we built disappeared. Only annoyance, frustration, and deep-seated loathing showed. “What is your name?” His voice rasped my skin, conjuring heat and yearning.
The Old Tess may be dead, but New Tess didn’t want to share the secret either. I couldn’t remember exactly why, but it was fundamental to keep it.
“Ami,” I whispered. If Suzette wanted to call me friend, who was I to argue? I could get used to it. Tess would be forgotten. The thought made me sad, but I couldn’t give Q my name. I’d given him everything else… that small part was mine.
Q growled, pacing in front. “Even now, you don’t break. After everything, you’re still strong enough to defy me.” He stopped abruptly, seething, “Tell me! Give in, esclave. Give me your name!” His chest heaved with anger as eyes beat me into submission.
I bowed my head. I would give him anything for saving me, but not that. My name belonged to my past. My past belonged to Brax. Q was something else entirely. He was my new everything.
“Ami,” I repeated.
“You are not my friend,” he snapped. “Stop lying.”
I shook my head. I knew that. I didn’t want to be his friend. I wanted to be his everything, too. I wanted what he offered in his touch, in the undercurrent of need. I wanted him to be honest, just like our bodies were honest. I wasn’t the only one lying.
Q stepped against me, the harbinger of citrus and crackling lust. “One last time, esclave. What. Is. Your. Name?”
My stomach hurt to lie under the force of his demands, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak the truth. “Katrina.”
“Lie.”
“Sophie.”
“Lie.”
“Crystal.”
“Goddammit, stop!” Q exploded. A hand lashed out, fingers diving into my hair, craning my neck back. I perished in his greeny gaze. “C'est quoi ton nom?” What is your name?
“Esclave.”
His eyes slammed shut, preventing me from seeing conflicting emotions darting in their depths: anger, remorse, tangible need.
When he opened them, there was nothing but blankness. He nodded. “I will learn who you are one day. That is a promise. And my promises are law.”
For some reason, my heart fluttered. He made a promise to keep trying, and by trying he would have to get to know me. Perhaps I could make him see me not as an object or possession, but as a person—a woman he ensnared just by being him, not by being my master. Every crazy little thing about him weaved a cage more unbreakable than his mansion and guards. What would he do if he knew that? Would he toss me out because I’d begun the journey of giving Q my biggest sense of all, or would he get on his knees and crush me in thanks for giving him something so precious?
I didn’t know. And I wanted to know. Everything.
*
“No! It can’t be true. It can’t!”
Brax thrashed in bed, kicking, failing, wrapped in a nightmare. Nightmare number four, this week alone, and I was tired. So tired.
Pepper Winters's Books
- The Boy and His Ribbon (The Ribbon Duet, #1)
- Throne of Truth (Truth and Lies Duet #2)
- Dollars (Dollar #2)
- Pepper Winters
- Twisted Together (Monsters in the Dark #3)
- Third Debt (Indebted #4)
- Second Debt (Indebted #3)
- Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)
- Je Suis a Toi (Monsters in the Dark #3.5)
- Fourth Debt (Indebted #5)